


speechless

by lavendrsblue



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), M/M, Nice Receive, PWP, bottom Daichi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendrsblue/pseuds/lavendrsblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You think about your neighbors during sex?”<br/>“No, I just feel bad for them, that’s all.” Suga pauses, considering. “They’ll hear when I make you scream.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	speechless

**Author's Note:**

> months ago i vowed to someday use the Nice Receive tag and now mistakes have been made. i am so sorry.

“Finally,” sighs Suga as Daichi closes the door behind them, turning the lock and toeing off his shoes. “I thought he would never stop talking.”

“I thought you liked Ito-san,” says Daichi. “He makes good ramen.”

Having discarded his own shoes, Suga unwinds his scarf, tossing it over the back of the couch. “Yeah, I know. I don’t usually mind, it’s just…” He crosses the space between them in two steps. Daichi pauses mid-motion, jacket halfway off his shoulders. “I was in a bit of a hurry, that’s all.”

“Why would that be?”

Suga pouts. Daichi widens his eyes, innocent.

“Daichi.”

“What? I’m just being a good neighbor.”

“You don’t even live here!”

“I’m trying to make _you_ a good neighbor, then.” Daichi shrugs his jacket off entirely, draping it neatly next to where Suga dropped his scarf. “Ito-san is a very nice man.”

“Stop talking about my neighbors, it’ll make it weird when I blow you.”

“That’s, uh.” Daichi coughs. Suga grins at the way Daichi’s gaze lingers on his mouth. “Wait, you think about your neighbors during sex?”

“ _No_ , I just feel bad for them, that’s all.” He pauses, considering. “They’ll hear when I make you scream.”

“ _Suga!_ ”

Suga laughs and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated—Daichi is too flustered to kiss properly, and Suga can’t stop giggling, but they’ve known each other too long for it to be truly awkward, even though they’ve only been officially together for a short time.

“It’s true, though,” says Suga when they break apart. “Good thing Ito-san is going out of town tonight.”

“Suga,” says Daichi again, complaining now as Suga leans in, trying for another kiss. “Why do you keep talking about old people? Is this a thing you have?”

Suga’s mouth pops open. “What!”

“I never knew you had such strange tastes,” teases Daichi. “This might be a dealbreaker. Who would’ve thought, Sugawara Koushi has a thing for—”

“Could you not? Mood killer.” He pouts as Daichi laughs, pulling him closer by his belt loops.

“Sorry,” he whispers against Suga’s lips a minute later.

Suga hums. “Apology accepted,” he decides. Daichi’s words were barely audible for breathiness; he’d somehow forgotten to breathe through his nose when they kissed, even though he’s a grown man and has kissed plenty of people. This is a thing that happens sometimes, and it never fails to elicit a swell of fondness in Suga’s chest, even as he laughs.

He pulls Daichi down for another kiss, winding hands around his neck. He can feel Daichi’s hands coming to rest at his hips to anchor him. This kiss is steady like a candle flame: warm all over, and pleasant, but nowhere near enough. So Suga rises up on his toes so he can kiss downward and drags his teeth along Daichi’s lower lip, pulling him forward.

That’s all it takes for the air between them to grow heavier. Daichi takes this as a cue to deepen their kiss, pulling Suga tighter against him. It’s not long before Suga tugs him towards the bedroom—if he’s going to go down on Daichi, he’ll do it properly, angled in the bed so he can see Daichi’s back arch up off the mattress, and the curve of his mouth when he gasps Suga’s name.

When they reach Suga’s room a moment later he realizes he’s forgotten to put away his laundry. Normally this is a non-issue, except Daichi’s foot catches in a stray shirt on the floor and he trips onto the bed, dragging Suga down with him. Suga laughs at the surprised noise he makes.

“Sorry about the mess,” he says, and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

That’s the last thing either of them says for a while. Suga rolls his hips down, grinding them together, making both of them gasp. Getting clothes off is kind of haphazard: Daichi’s sweater goes first, then he fumbles with the buttons on Suga’s shirt while Suga sits back and giggles at him until he takes pity and finishes the job himself, tossing it aside. He tugs Daichi’s jeans and underwear off at the same time, impatient now. Daichi shivers at the brush of cold air against exposed skin. _Finally_. He’s waited all night for this.

Suga leans down and licks a broad stripe up the underside of his cock, slow, his eyes locked on Daichi’s. Daichi bites hard on his lower lip to hold back a groan. He’s always doing that when they’re together, biting down on his own hand or muffling the noises he makes in a pillow—just as he does now as Suga presses open-mouthed kisses along the shaft, and as he registers the strings of saliva between himself and Suga’s lips as he pulls away to frown at him.

“Why are you doing that?” asks Suga, not bothering to wipe his mouth. Daichi seems to be distracted by this; it takes him a long moment to reply.

“What?”

“Trying to be quiet. I told you already, no one else is here.” Daichi gapes.

“You—you’re asking this _now_?”

“Sure.” Suga grins as Daichi glares at him, though it’s kind of lost to the way his breath is still coming in pants, his face flushed. “When else?”

“Maybe when you’re not in the middle of—” But Suga doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence. Instead he slides down to take his cock in his mouth and suck hard, so he can hear Daichi stutter. The results are even better than expected: Daichi’s words dissolve into a moan, low from the back of his throat, and it sends a sharp pulse of heat straight through him.

Suga’s hard enough that his jeans are starting to get really uncomfortable, but it’s simple enough to ignore in favor of the noises Daichi is making, head tipped back, lips parted. _Better_ , thinks Suga triumphantly. Daichi is cautious by nature, always considerate, so Suga has made it his personal mission to get Daichi to do just the opposite in times like this. (He prides himself on an extremely high success rate.)

Daichi’s been reduced to gasping his name— _Suga, fuck, Suga_ —his hands twisting in the sheets as Suga takes him deeper. Deep-throating isn’t his favorite, but he’ll do it for the desperate noises Daichi makes right before he comes, climbing higher in volume—but now Suga feels a nudge on his head.

“Wait, wait, I don’t wanna—” Daichi breaks off in a groan at the flick of Suga’s tongue over his slit. One hand comes up to grab at his hair on reflex. Suga hums at the feeling of Daichi’s hands in his hair, knowing that the vibration from the sound will make Daichi shudder all over. “No, I— _Suga_ —” He slides his lips off Daichi with a satisfying sucking noise.

“Something you wanted to say?” he asks. His teasing is made less effective by the unevenness of his voice; the need for friction holds priority. He needs to get his pants off, very soon. Daichi makes a face at him.

“Not yet,” he manages after he catches his breath. Suga tilts his head.

“Anything in mind?”

“Kind of. I thought, maybe we could…” Daichi shifts his hips a little, and Suga pushes himself up to sit. It’s a little weird to hold a conversation with a dick in your face, no matter how many times it’s happened before.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do,” Daichi begins, hesitant. “Since it hasn’t been very long since we, uh.” He gestures between them.

“Well, I can’t say yes or no if you don’t even tell me what it is.” Suga nudges his knee, his tone light to alleviate Daichi’s shyness. You’d think there wouldn’t be any hesitancy left between them after knowing each other for so many years, even though they’ve only technically been together for a short time—and especially not with Daichi, who’s so confident in most other situations. But this shyness manifests at the oddest times. Every one is a pinprick in Suga’s mind reminding him why he fell for Daichi in the first place so long ago. “Come on,” he prompts. “I won’t laugh at you, I swear.”

Daichi’s fidgeting with a stray thread on the sheets, but his hand goes still now, and he looks up at Suga straight in the eye.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Suga’s brain shorts out.

When he comes back a moment later, Daichi is still looking at him, hesitant but steady, and Suga thinks he might actually pass out. “You… you want…”

“If you want to,” adds Daichi hurriedly. “Because… we haven’t yet. If that’s okay.” Suga stares at him.

“That is more than okay,” he manages after a few seconds.

“Okay.” Daichi grins at him suddenly, all happy and _cute_ , like he hadn’t just gone right out and asked that so directly, like he almost never does when it comes to—things like this. Sex things. It’s an injustice, really.

So Suga bites back a smile of his own in favor of crawling over Daichi, reaching for the drawer in his bedside table. He digs past cold medicine and spare glasses cases until he locates lube and tosses it at Daichi, who nearly drops it amongst the mussed-up sheets.

Once he’s found a condom, Suga sits back on his heels and glances at the bottle in Daichi’s hands. “Do you want me to…”

“No, I can do it.” Daichi shakes his head, flipping the cap open. “You could watch.”

Suga knows the grin that spreads slow across his face will fluster Daichi, and this time—as always—he’s not disappointed. “Good.”

He scoots forward on the bed and leans in for a kiss, hot and languid, one hand on the back of Daichi’s neck, the other braced on the pillows behind them, steadying them both as Daichi reaches down and around himself. Suga’s not looking but he can tell the moment Daichi first presses a finger inside himself, he lets out a little gasp against Suga’s lips. In response Suga kisses him harder. The motion drags his teeth along Daichi’s lip and a moan from his throat.

Soon Daichi is breathing too hard to kiss properly, his mouth open around gasps as he rocks against his own fingers. Suga presses kisses under his jaw and at the corners of his mouth, whispering encouragement as Daichi presses another finger in, shuddering.

“Take your time,” Suga says against the shell of his ear, and Daichi nods wordlessly, biting down hard on his own lip. His breathing has grown harsher as he concentrates, intent on preparing himself. It strikes Suga then that Daichi might get less pleasure from this, if he pushes himself too fast—so he reaches down to pump Daichi in time with his movements. Daichi’s next exhale breaks over his name.

This seems to do the trick. Only a minute later Daichi’s nudging his hand away, sliding his fingers out of himself with a wince and wiping them on the sheets. “They’re going to get ruined anyway,” he points out, at Suga’s wrinkled nose.

“It’s still kind of gross.”

“If you think _that’s_ gross, you’re going to have a hard time with—”

“Yeah, whatever,” Suga mumbles against his lips. Distracting him with a kiss, a technically unfair but always successful way to end arguments.

Apparently the desire to be fucked comes before the desire to win this particular battle; Daichi reaches for Suga’s cock at the same time he leans forward to press his lips against Suga’s neck, just above his collarbone. It’s one of Suga’s favorite spots and Daichi knows it (unfair). Daichi pumps him slowly, teasing, until Suga pokes him in the ribs to complain. Then he moves faster, tightening his grip at Suga’s gasped encouragement.

They go on like that for a minute—the heat coiling in his stomach is a relief, now that there is a release in sight—until Suga is fully hard. But Daichi doesn’t take his hand away. His next stroke twists, and he smirks at the way Suga’s eyes flutter closed as he gasps, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“I’m good, I’m good. Come on.”

There’s some crucial readjusting: Daichi settles back into the sheets, the pillows shoved aside, his heels on either side of Suga’s legs where he kneels to roll on a condom. Suga rests his hands on Daichi’s knees, spreading his legs farther apart, and Daichi flushes red, looks away.

“Daichi.” Suga waits until Daichi looks back at him. The little crease that had appeared in his brow smoothes out, and he offers a smile—small, tentative. It’s such a sweet thing, despite their positioning. Suga feels as if he’s been punched in the gut.

So he reaches up to lace the fingers of his left hand with Daichi’s right, so they can have that extra connection as he lines them up and presses in slowly. He manages to stifle a gasp at first contact, but he can’t contain the groan that drags from his throat at the feeling of Daichi parting around him. Daichi’s mentioned before that it’s been a while since he’d been fucked, but Suga still didn’t expect this; he didn’t anticipate that Daichi would be so hot and tight that he could nearly come from this sensation alone. And he hasn’t even _moved_ yet, what the hell.

“Daichi—” He opens his eyes. He doesn’t remember closing them, but it must have happened at some point in the past several seconds. Daichi’s eyes are open, half-lidded. He’s watching Suga trying to hold himself together, and the realization sends a pulse of heat to his cock, making him twitch.

He stops and they stay there for a long minute, foreheads nearly touching, feeling each other breathe. There’s a fine tremor running through Suga’s arms where he props himself above Daichi—not from exertion (yet), but from some mixture of anticipation and barely contained restraint.

Suga rolls his hips once, slowly, and the gasp Daichi makes is nearly drowned out by the blood roaring in Suga’s ears. He repeats the motion and the second pass drives him in even deeper. The rhythm he starts is slow, letting Daichi get used to him. Suga’s eyes fall closed at the feeling of Daichi around him, sweat pricking the back of his neck as the temperature in the room climbs higher, the angle and heat and pressure around his cock just shy of perfect.

That is, until he feels the sting of fingernails digging into his ass and his eyes fly open with a gasp. Daichi’s looking up at him, all earlier shyness vanished, replaced with intensity. When he speaks he’s out of breath, winded from fullness. There’s no hesitation in his voice. “Don’t hold back.”

Suga wants to say something in reply, something disarming to make Daichi laugh, but he’s beyond the capacity for words at the moment. So as a response he brings his hips back slowly, pulling nearly all the way out, and thrusts back in quickly—maybe a little too quick. Daichi cries out (in pleasure?), his back arching up off the mattress, hands scrabbling on the sheets.

“Is that…”

His hands come up around Suga’s sides to rest at the small of his back, and he only gasps out a single word: “More.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. Suga picks up the pace until they’re both lost in each other, hands all over, searching for more pressure, more stimulation, more _anything_.

“Waited for this,” Suga manages to get out, between breaths. It’s easier to say things like this with his eyes closed. He is used to containing these kinds of thoughts in his own mind late at night; vocalizing them still feels strange. “ _Fuck_ , I waited so long—”

At his next thrust, Daichi pushes his hips up to meet him, and the slap of skin on skin might be comical if Suga wasn’t so distracted by how fucking incredible it feels. The new angle brings them even closer together, not a centimeter of either of them wasted.

“Tell me,” says Daichi, somewhere above him. He sounds like he’s barely clinging to coherence. Suga pushes himself up again to bring them face-to-face, and at a perfect moment, too—Daichi looks incredible like this, head thrown back against the pillows, flushed all over, shaking nearly as much as his voice is when he gasps out, “Suga, _please_.”

Fuck, that’s going to become a _thing_ , Suga already knows.

“God, Daichi, you have no idea—” His voice is so uneven, he doesn’t even know if Daichi can understand him but he keeps going anyway. “Been dreaming about this, you’re fucking amazing, _Daichi_ —”

Daichi cries out when he comes, shuddering, splattering over both their stomachs and chests. Suga can’t hold back a whimper at the feeling of Daichi clenching around him, even though he expects it, and as Daichi melts back into the bed Suga leans down to press a kiss against his neck.

“Good?” he asks, and waits for Daichi’s nod before moving again. He anchors his hands on Daichi’s upper arms (he can feel the muscle moving under his hands, holy shit he’s going to do this all the time now), making it easier for Daichi to lift his hips a little and— _there_ , the angle is perfect. His thrusts get harder and it’s probably not the best feeling for Daichi but he doesn’t seem to mind. The pressure building in his abdomen is nearly unbearable; the muscles in his legs shake with the effort of keeping up his rhythm.

“Come on,” Daichi whispers, his eyes half-lidded. His lips are swollen where Suga had bitten them earlier. Suga can feel his voice rumbling in his chest and digs his nails into Daichi’s arms harder, he’ll find bruises tomorrow morning.

“Keep talking,” he gasps. He closes his eyes in concentration, but not before he sees Daichi grin up at him with something like awe.

Usually when Suga asks this of him, Daichi gets flustered and can’t contribute much (to his own dismay), but apparently orgasms give him confidence. “Yeah, just like that, Suga—” the noise Suga makes is super embarrassing but he doesn’t even care at this point, he’s so hard it’s painful— “C’mon, you’re so close, come for me—”

And he does, sooner than he expected, gasping as the wave of sensation rolls over him. He gets in a couple of hard thrusts against Daichi’s ass before he slumps boneless against Daichi, face pressed against his neck as he remembers how to breathe.

“Fuck, that was… You’re so… so.” He can’t recall how to form sentences. It’s unfortunate. Daichi begins to shake underneath him—it takes him a second to realize Daichi is _laughing at him_. “Hey!”

“Sorry,” says Daichi, still giggling. How he manages to be so fucking endearing with a dick still firmly lodged in his ass is beyond Suga’s powers of reasoning. It is _so_ unfair.

Suga pulls out, both of them wincing, and after he throws the condom away he rolls so that his front is pressed along Daichi’s side. Daichi flips around to face him, reaching up to push Suga’s hair out of his face, his touch feather-light.

“What’s unfair?” asks Daichi. Oh, so he’d spoken aloud. His filter tends to drift away during and after sex.

“You.”

“How so?”

Suga scrunches his nose at him. “Don’t make me explain now, it’s too difficult.” The combination of Daichi’s fingers moving in his hair and post-orgasm hormones are making him too sleepy for words, or higher cognitive function in general.

“Where’s your stamina? You’re such an old man.”

“Hmm, now the old person thing is _your_ thing. How the tables turn.”

Daichi rolls his eyes, and Suga giggles. “I deserved that, didn’t I.”

“You did.” Suga leans forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “Now sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> #wreckdaichi2016


End file.
